Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Umid Ali writes


There are knots in my every season,
My soul is deplorable and wandering.
I realized when I was born,
My existence is equal to an autumn.

There are fallen leaves on the ground,
Dust poured out of my soul.
I thought my heart was gold,
But everyone considered: “halfpenny”.

My life passed heartbroken and without honor,
Confused on the exact way.
A sorrow – a bond didn’t leave me,
Only my life – an autumn was loyal. 

--tr. Asror Allayarov, from "The Gate Opened by Angels"

Image result for knot season paintings
Golden Knot -- Brenda Drake

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